


Fathom

by HarmoniHalo



Series: Is it really Kinktober if I don't finish in October?? [3]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniHalo/pseuds/HarmoniHalo
Summary: Prompt 3: Rescue/Capture
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Is it really Kinktober if I don't finish in October?? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956286
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Fathom

Aziraphale twitched as another droplet of water hit his nose. It was cold, reeked of saline and made the angel weary of looking up.

He wasn't exactly sure of where he was but the strong scent of rotting sealife gave him the impression he was somewhere near or inside the Fisheries. This wouldn't be the first time Aziraphale had been a captor, but this differed from his time in the Bastille in a multitude of ways. 

Back in Paris, he knew what fate awaited him. Death (or discorporation) by guillotine was quick and mostly painless. The paperwork would be the worst part, not the cause of decease-ment. 

But here, below the waves, in this godless city, this wasn't just a case of "wrong place, wrong time, wrong outfit". This was personal. He, along with many others that evaded capture because Aziraphale sacrificed himself, had made made enemies of Andrew Ryan, the most powerful man in Rapture. 

Over smuggling books of all things. 

Specifically religious texts, one of the few things banned in the city. 

Aziraphale, or the Reverend as the other smugglers and customers had called him, hoped that if he turned himself in, the others would be safe. 

But after his rather brutal capture, involving being whacked with a wrench that collided with a _whap!_ against the back of his head and a _crack!_ against his nose, along with being burned to a char by one of his captors who grabbed his arm and squeezed, setting his sleeve and the skin beneath it ablaze, the angel feared his discorporation wouldn't be quick and painless. 

He was already worse for wear, able to taste iron from his most likely busted lip. And each droplet of salt water from the leaky pipe above him stung like hell when it landed on his nose, the damn thing must've broken. His arm still iminated heat and as he glanced down he could see the exposed dermis, a disgusting display of black and red. He could only be thankful the sea water hadn't leaked on it yet.

Aziraphale could have easily healed his wounds, without difficulty. But he refrained, not at all concerned for his wellbeing. This wasn't about him, it was about the cause. The cause of his companions (former companions) and his heavenly cause. He had made peace with that fact and couldn't heal without raising questions, so the principality decided he would just go quietly, without creating a fuss. 

So Aziraphale sat there, waiting for the inevitable. His only company being one of his captors, the man who set him on fire. He was standing against the bulkhead door snapping his fingers, small sparks of flame erupting with each snap. 

Aziraphale opted the lay back against his chair, tugging at his restraints. Just as he did so, a small droplet of the saltiest water the unforgiving sea could offer dripped downward and sizzled as it landed on his charred skin. Aziraphale howled in pain, spasming in his chair frantically, tears in the corner of his eyes as he sobbed helplessly. The man on the far side of the room gave him a wicked smile. 

"That's nothing compared to what Ryan's got planned for you." The thug sneered. 

Suddenly, the room went pitch black and the ambient sound of a nearby freezer went quiet. The angel's captor illuminated his hand completely with a fiery glow, giving Aziraphale a quick once over before rushing through the bulkhead door, which closed with a few clicks then a SLAM. 

For a moment, there was complete silence, the only sound Aziraphale could hear was his anxious breathing and pounding heart. 

Until he heard a blood curdling scream and a meaty blow that crashed against the door, followed by the distinct click-clack of what sounded like heels. 

Aziraphale heard the door open, but couldn't see who had walked in through the darkness. He felt he may faint from fear until he caught the scent of his "rescuer". Perfume-y. Like flowers.

"Crowley...?" He meekly asked, his voice strained. 

They didn't respond but released him from his bonds and carefully lifted him up, taking care to not touch his arm. And before Aziraphale could blink, they were in his apartment.

The warm light of the nearby lamps was blinding, but not at all unwelcoming, and illuminated Aziraphale's rescuer, the demon Crowley. It also lit up a nearby mirror and the sight nearly made Aziraphale ill. 

His nose was forcefully crooked, his lip was swollen, red blood pooling from a split. The burned arm was crisp from wrist to elbow and the angel's snow white curls were stained crimson. 

"Oh...dear..." Aziraphale gasped, gazing back at his mangled reflection in shock, before looking back at Crowley, who also was worse for wear. 

His fiery red hair was pulled back in a messy bun, cheeks and hands dripping blood on to Aziraphale's carpet, black dress in taters. Upon further examination, and to the angel's horror, the bodily fluids were too red to be Crowley's own. 

"What did you do?" Aziraphale asked wearily, his pupils thin. 

"Rescued you." Crowley responded, completely dead pan. "It'd be the second time now."

Aziraphale ignored the statement, "What did you do to those men, Crowley...?"

"What does it matter what I did to them? Look what they did to you!" The demon snapped, indicating Aziraphale's more than disheveled reflection with a raised hand. "You're lucky I got there when I did. They had worse planned, I'm sure." 

The angel glared at Crowley, holding himself stiff and straight, puffing his chest in defiance. "I didn't need you to rescue me!" He scolded. "I had to stay there for the sake of everyone else!"

"So that's it?" Crowley scoffed, "Everyone else is fine and you die a martyr?"

"It's just discorperation, Crowley..." 

"Just discorperation?!" Crowley's voice cracked as it raised about 15 octaves, glaring at the angel in disbelief. "What the heaven do you mean by that?!" 

"I would die for my cause." Aziraphale responded calmly, moving to sit down on the edge of his bed. "I was prepared to do it." His dusty blue eyes shot cold daggers of betrayal back at Crowley.

"You would die for some bastards who only care about what you can for them, right?" Crowley raised an eyebrow incredulously. 

"Don't talk about the humans like that." Aziraphale scolded. 

"Oh," Crowley growled. "I wasn't talking about the _humans_ , angel." He spoke with utter contempt, scowling as he pointed skyward. 

Aziraphale glared at the demon, "Don't. You. Dare."

"What? You don't want me to imply that the lovely beings upstairs couldn't give less of a _**fuck**_ about you?" 

Aziraphale shook his head, panic evident in his eyes as he called out desperately. "Crowley, stop it! We are not having this discussion again!"

Crowley stepped forward, "Because you know I'm right, and you don't want to hear it." 

He moved closer to Aziraphale, almost snarling as he spoke. "Because if they cared about you, they would've told you that discorperation is the least of your worries of you were captured. And I told you to be careful, told you to leave the ring but you--!" 

Crowley paused midsentence, finally looking back at the angel who was in tears. 

"What did you say...?" Aziraphale asked, his voice small. 

Crowley's lip quivered as all the anger from before evaporated prior to taking a seat next to Aziraphale on the bed. 

"I'm..." He began, not wanting to meet the angel's eyes. "I'm not the only demon down here."

"What?" 

"There's another guy down here who's working with Ryan. And-" Crowley's voice started to crack, "I shouldn't have to tell you what would happen if you were unlucky enough to be captured by him." 

He reached out to Aziraphale's arm and with a wave of his hand, the charred skin was pristine and soft again.

"I know you don't want to hear me say it, but it's the truth." He moved his hand to Aziraphale's cheek, mending his nose and lip with a gentle rub of his thumb over the wounds. 

"Heaven sees you as a tool. They only care about your merits but not you. Not like I do..."

"I can't..." Aziraphale sobbed. "You can't say that." 

"But it's the truth, angel." 

"Why should I believe you?!" Aziraphale was becoming hysterical but Crowley kept calm, letting his hand gently hold the angel's trembling one while he leaned closer. 

"Because I love you, but you already knew that." Crowley took Aziraphale's lips in tender kiss for only a brief moment before pulling away. He kept his face close to the angel's, staring back into his eyes. Affection and care were present there, along with fear and worry for the inevitable.

Before Crowley could blink, Aziraphale retaliated, flinging himself onto Crowley while pulling him into a much more passionate and forceful kiss. His hand grabbed at the demon's thigh, while Crowley fisted through the angel's hair, the red stains from earlier dissolving into nothing, returning the curls to their pristine white. 

Aziraphale tried to flip up Crowley's dress but before he could his partner had snapped it away and it flopped onto the floor on the other side of the room. 

Soft lips latched onto the heated skin of Crowley's neck, issuing a gentle moan that became louder when Aziraphale's pushed his hand under the waistband of his lover's pants and let his fingers tease at the demon's sopping warmth. 

"Angel..." He whined desperately, keening when the angel slipped a finger inside. 

They continued to kiss feverishly before Aziraphale pulled away, panting heavily, grinding himself against his partner's thigh. "...need you, dearest." He groaned achingly.

Crowley nodded, kicking off any underwear he was wearing and ridding Aziraphale of his trousers with a snap. His legs wrapped around his beloved's hips, tugging him closer till the tip of his cock was positioned at his entrance. 

As Aziraphale went to ready himself, leaning down to give Crowley a gentle kiss on the forehead, the demon held him steady, grabbing his face and looking back at him. 

"Don't leave me." Crowley wailed. "Let's just stay like this, together in this bed. Entangled in each other's embrace. For an eternity." He gave Aziraphale another kiss with trembling lips. "Please. No jobs. No crime rings. No Heaven or Hell. Just us. Please."

The amount of desperation in Crowley's voice and yearning in his golden eyes cut deep in Aziraphale's soul. 

He wanted to say yes. God, how he wanted to say yes. But what he wanted didn't matter. **He** didn't matter.

"I can't." Aziraphale responded with teary eyes, crying out as he buried himself in the demon.

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY  
> I had to write something from my stupid Gomens/Bioshock AU and I took the opportunity. I promise the next one will be happier!


End file.
